


This Evening's Entertainment

by glass_insomniac



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is a bit of a dick, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, But only a bit, F/M, Honestly I need some form of religion I think, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24955501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass_insomniac/pseuds/glass_insomniac
Summary: Y/n just wanted to get some coffee, but the infamous Alastor has other plans. Some of which catch even him off guard (yeah, there's tentacles).
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	This Evening's Entertainment

It hadn’t been a good day in hell. Yes, the place had been designed to inspire gloom and terror on the best of days, but at this particular moment in that fiery eternity, Lucifer must’ve had his cane shoved up his ass the wrong way ‘round. It seemed that every underground faction decided to launch their assaults all at once, and y/n was more than a little flustered. She liked money just as much as the next greedy demon, but her plate was more than a little too full today. 

As someone who lived and breathed intelligence and communication, both before and after death, the bright eyed demon gained most of her money by keeping enemies informed on one another. Whisper in one ear here, a little note slipped under a door there, and y/n was living good without bloodying any feathers. Or at least, not too many. This was exactly what she’d spent the last six hours doing, before deciding to call it as the groups scrambled for power in a fiery, gory maelstrom. Sneering at the thought of the mess to come, y/n smoothed herself down a final time before stepping into Les Deux Magots. The cafe had an excessively decadent menu, from breakfast to dessert, and was the epitome of indulgence. Which is exactly why it so happened to be one of y/n’s favorite eateries in the ‘land down under’ (not australia, a little deeper than that).

The faces of the workers behind the glass display were as unrecognizable as ever, which suited y/n just fine. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the steaming pastries. The frosting dripped off of one in a thick glob, and oh god she needed to get in the line already. Stepping a healthy distance behind the nearest patron, thoughts of tantalizing french pastries floated through her mind. 

Reaching the front, y/n mentally constructed her order in her mind. Ordering in French was not strictly required, but it made you a hell of a lot less likely to get your coffee spit in or burnt. The language felt awkward on her tongue, but the words came out more or less clearly, 

“Je voudrais un canéle et une grande tasse d’expresso.” 

The cashier gave an unimpressed face, but turned to mark her cup regardless. The sheep demon must’ve been one of the regular workers, since he wrote ‘Starling’ on it without hesitation in thick red letters. That was the epithet y/n had adopted since her drift downwards, as on-the-nose as it may have been for her look. 

Stepping quickly to a corner table which had just vacated, Starling collapsed into the wrought iron seat. There weren’t any cushions, but she rarely sat down long enough for that to ever become a true problem. Tipping her head back with a soft thunk against the wall and closing her eyes, she allowed the smells to become the one object of her attention. Of course there was the achingly pleasant aroma of cinnamon and baking bread from the kitchen which predominated the area. But as the stagnant breeze pushed through the airy curtains, the sweet was undercut with acrid smoke, tinted with sulfur. Maybe today wasn’t so bad afterall, Starling decided. 

Which, of course, is exactly when that smug prick decided to make use of the chair across from her. 

Y/n heard the scrape of the second chair, and weighed her options. On one hand, ignoring the guy seemed wholly desirable. Snubbed him, while also maintaining her peace and quiet. To her annoyance, the person decided to impatiently clear their throat before she could even consider a second option. Starling snapped her severe yellow eyes open and gave the most bland, uninterested expression in her arsenal. 

“Can I help you?” Starling said with more than a little irritation. The stranger, grinning like an idiot with sharp teeth and an intent gaze, seemed even more amused at this. 

“Not in the slightest doll, but I can most certainly help you!” The demon- by Lucifer what was his hair doing - leaned forward on the little table between them, one clawed hand folded over another.

“You can take your-” Starling began, but was quickly talked over. 

“You see, I couldn’t help but overhearing your butchering of an innocent language, and I felt it well within my civic duty to avenge it. To start, the hard ‘c’ in canéle has to come from much deeper in the throat, and you have to let the sound move over your tongue, rather than tripping on it.” This advice was punctuated by a few throaty ‘cah’ noises, and what was, in Starling's opinion, excessive tongue movement. Too confused and offended to form a tart response, she looked with fascination and slight disgust at how long and pointed the man’s tongue was. He continued to ramble for a few minutes on proper enunciation, as well as the sanctity of the French language, and all the while the short black feathers at y/n’s neck continued to puff in consternation. The gall of the demon, to swagger on over here in his gaudy red suit and lecture her on pronunciation! Much to her relief, Starling was rescued when her pastry and coffee were delivered. Deciding this was a to-go order, whether the cup was meant to be returned or not, the thoroughly annoying and puffy demon stood up sharply and made for the door. 

The first breath of stagnant, hot air was welcome if only for the quiet that came with it. She walked quickly, considering unfurling gray-speckled wings if only to put more distance between her and her harasser. Unfortunately, luck did not seem to be on her side. The very shadows of the narrow streets seemed to coalesce when only a block away from the cafe, and out from the wriggling mass came the deer-demon, smile still as wide as it started.   
He linked an arm through hers and eyed her sideways without turning his head. 

“My dear, it seems you left before our lesson was over! Don’t worry one bit, I can walk and teach.” Once again, y/n bristled at the presumption, tapping a neat talon against her ceramic cup impatiently as he launched into the talk once again. 

After a short time Starling gave up the front of anger, and simply listened to the chatter. It was almost… relaxing. In the same way that storm sounds make good white noise, she found herself less stiff, and smirking rather than bristling at the jabs towards her and the people they passed. At one particular insult towards a bumbling group of imps, Starling gave a high, keening laugh. The other demon seemed surprised, and actually stopped his tirade of speech to turn his head fully towards her. His smile dropped to show less of his teeth, and y/n found that suited him much better. 

“Don’t stop on my account, I was beginning to almost enjoy the commentary.” Something flickered in his red eyes, and Starling continued before his head could swell too much, “Never said the company or the lessons were appreciated though,” She grumbled, knowing all too well that it was too late, and that she’d encouraged his antics. And given the raw power she could sense gathered around him at baseline, he seemed like a demon who antics could get… out of hand. 

Instead of giving a response, he continued to lead her by the arm through the streets, approaching wider avenues that stunk ever so slightly less of sulfur. The tap of his strange radio-cane against the cobblestone staccatoed the silence between them. 

“Tell me, Starling. How much did you make double-crossing people today? Seems like a particularly profitable day for someone in your line of work.” Though direct, the words held no malice or hint of threat. If anything, they seemed pleased. Regardless, y/n weighed her words thoughtfully. 

“More than enough to comfortably afford a private table at Les Deux Magots today,” She responded. This gained a brief chuckle from the demon. Having drained her coffee, she tossed it to the ground to shatter and join the rest of the ever-present refuse. Starting on her dessert, Starling made an obscene noise at the first taste of vanilla and bourbon in fluffy pastry. She chewed slowly, before adding, “And it’s hardly double-crossing if I never agreed to keep my silence. That’s just good business.” Her counterpart nodded sagely, which was somewhat spoiled by his predatory smile. She nudged him roguishly with her elbow before peering back up at him. 

“Seems like you’ve already got my number down. Might I ask who I have the great pleasure of speaking to?” Starling asked loftily, with a mockingly earnest expression. The demon didn’t even look at her before tutting,

“Now, now, let’s not play dumb. That’s a waste of time for you as well as me. Someone of your inclination most certainly knows who I am.” The words were said without arrogance, but merely as a matter of fact. After a tense silence of jockeying wills, Starling conceded the inevitably of her answer.

“I suppose I do, Alastor- or would you prefer radio-demon? Or perhaps French tutor-extraordinair?” She replied waspishly. Alastor tightened his grip on her arm, but rather than flinching away, Starling pressed closer to his side with a defiant smirk. She knew all too well what showing fear in a situation like this would end in. Tilting an eyebrow in surprise, Alastor finally let go of her and gestured for her to follow him up some narrow stairs, into one of the many townhouses in the neighborhood. 

“A home of mine.” He explained flippantly, before closing the door behind them. 

It was only then that Starling realised she had absolutely no intel on where this situation would get her. Then again, there was really only one way to find out. 

...

Of all situations Starling had anticipated, this couldn’t have been furthest from them. In the midst of Alastor’s ramblings, he had apparently been insistent that cajun food not only sampled from French dishes, but vastly improved upon them. Normally she would have cursed herself for missing such an obvious piece of the conversation, but she was willing to give herself a pass when strolling arm and arm with someone who could easily reduce her to a puddle of blood. 

So naturally, y/n found herself sitting at a sumptuous dining table and listening to the radio demon rummage around in his kitchen. The multi-storied apartment wasn’t nearly as… imposing as she would have guessed, which only added to her dazed confusion. The tap of shoes approaching recaptured her attention, schooling her expression into one of distant interest. This was most certainly not a time to be caught off guard. 

Alastor’s neat red suit came into her line of sight as he arrived victorious from his battle with the kitchen. 

“I knew I had one of these stashed in here! See here, this is king cake. The French may have had some of the first pastries, but it was in Louisiana where it was perfected!” Starling didn’t have the heart in her to question the accuracy of that statement, not when she could see the excitable gleam in his eyes. It was actually disconcertingly cute. 

The king cake, on the other hand, was exceedingly gaudy. The braided cake might have been pretty once, but then someone decided to cover it in gold, green, and purple sprinkles. 

“It’s certainly… colorful.” She said hesitantly. That seemed to be the right thing to say, and Alastor’s grin became all the wider. 

“It is, isn’t it! Now dear, dig in and taste real cuisine.” 

Despite its strange decoration, the cake seemed appealing enough. This was confirmed with the first bite, as y/n’s mouth water at the richness. It was pleasant and light with a sweet nut filling. While she couldn’t speak for all of French pastries to ever exist and how this measured up, it was still a damn good cake. 

Finishing the last bite, Starling released a pleased humm and as she set down her fork. The cake from the center of the table had disappeared entirely at some point during her meal, which would have been surprising if that weren’t on par with how her day had been going so far. She met Alastor’s wide, expectant eye and rolled hers dramatically. 

“Okay, alright, I suppose it was better than my pastry earlier. Where did you even get it from?” Alastor only responded with a vague gesture indicating towards the kitchen, which cleared absolutely nothing up. Instead of responding helpfully, he continued to examine her curiously, leaning forward slightly almost unconsciously. Rather than draw back like every instinct in her body screamed for her to do, y/n decided today was a day for the occasional poor decision. Raising her eyebrows and leaning forward a bit herself, she waited expectantly for Alastor to reach whatever conclusion was forming in his mind. The demon made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat, before reclining back and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m not really certain why I invited you here. Or accosted you at the shop. You seem… intriguing. I wanted to speak to you, Lucifer knows why. And you didn’t disappoint, my little birdy. That spirit and sharp tongue is,” He paused, dragging a sharp claw across the table and gouging the lacquer. “Entertaining.” 

Starling shivered, and she could feel the feathers on her neck raise. It took a moment to compose herself, before managing, 

“And what if said I also found you… entertaining?” She let the pause drag, appreciating the look of surprise that glanced across Alastor’s features. It was quickly overtaken, however, by a dark hunger. But instead of lunging across the table like Starling expected, instead she found herself being yanked back into her chair by her arms and legs. Thick shadowy bands wrapped around her wrists and ankles, and it was only then that she realized Alastor’s aura had grown and enveloped the room around her. 

He calmly stood up, pushed his chair back into the table, and made his way around the head of the table to where she now sat, immobilized. He leaned forward, gently cradling her chin in his hand. His characteristic smile was suddenly absent, and his eyes were steely.

“If so, then I would suggest you weigh your words more carefully my dear. I don’t take kindly to others holding sway over me, as I’m sure you’ve heard, little bird.” 

Starling tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. She made no effort to break from the hold on her limbs, though they had slackened enough for her to do so. There was a question in his every word, every gesture, a restraint that seemed fragile as glass. At her word, this continued or stopped. The power, quite frankly, made her head feel dizzy. At length, Starling finally responded,

“If you want control so bad, then take it. Take me.” She said this without shame, chin raised. After all, when in hell. 

Alastor tilted his head, before catching the scent of the heady hormones in the air. Understanding sparked in his eyes, and her restraints tightened once again. 

“Oh- oh I see.” His grin returned, and with a snap of his fingers the wooden chair beneath her was replaced with cushy fabric. She fisted at the sheets beneath her in surprise, but only let out a sharp breath. Her limbs were free once again, so she crossed her legs to maintain at least an illusion of dignity. Alastor stood at the side of the bed, once again examining her distantly. Starling leaned back onto her elbows comfortably, not one to be cowed into submission so easily.

The room around her was all dark wood and red accents, though this room had log cabin-esque touches that she hadn’t seen in the rest of the house. A pair of stark white deer antlers hung over a lit fireplace, and Starling was unable to suppress a scoff at the exaggerating aesthetic of the room. 

If Alastor noticed her critiques, he made no mention of it. Instead, he decided to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed- as if not certain of his actions. He put a hand gently on her speckled thigh, finally breaking his silence,

“This is not something I’ve wanted to do in either of my lifetimes, though I will admit to feeling curious about its workings. You must understand that while I have no desire to be sweaty and out of control,” He wrinkled his nose at that, “I am more than interested in certain aspects of it. Surely you understand, as a fellow lover of gathering intel?” 

As entranced as she was in the circle his thumb traced against her thigh, Starling still managed a short laugh. 

“For sure, I get it,” Not in the slightest, but what the hell. Fun was fun. “Take whatever ‘information’ you’re interested in,” She punctuated her final statement with a cocky smile, spreading her legs a bit further apart. A sharp tongue flicked across Alastor’s lip, and his eyes gleamed in the dim light. 

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Thoroughly encouraged, his aura- so dark red it was nearly black- gathered around him once more. Starling caught glimpses of the tendrils which had restrained her earlier, and felt her pulse quicken at the thought. Alastor, however, seemed to have other plants to start. He trailed his sharp nails down her exposed arms, occasionally righting an errant gray feather. He hovered over her, all-encompassing but not quite smothering. A single finger trailed the length of her neck, feeling her jumping pulse, before tugging in annoyance at the shirt’s collar. With a twitch of his hands it was gone. 

Skin now exposed to the air, Starling was suddenly grateful for the out of place hearth. Alastor’s hands roamed her newly exposed abdomen slowly, greedily. He took note of where she jumped at the ticklishness, and where she squirmed at the promise of greater pleasure. Interest thoroughly piqued, the radio demon gave into the urge to taste the dotted expanse of skin. 

He licked a strip along her throat, appreciating the hint of salt on her skin, but seeing it got him little reaction. Instead, he tried nipping at a column. Alastor was immediately treated with a shallow gasp. Smiling against Starling’s warm skin, he continued to make his way down her throat and chest, alternating between nips and sucking little possessive marks. 

Y/n bit her lip, the sting a welcome distraction from the slow and tortuous progress made by the other demon. She wanted more, and only stayed her pleading from sheer stubbornness. As if able to sense her mood, she felt rather than heard the chuckle against her collarbone. 

“So impatient. Luckily for you, I’m feeling giving,” His teasing words held no real bite. Starling had no time to form a response, however, before she became keenly aware of the absence of the rest of her clothing. This time she did shiver at the change, knees coming together instinctively. Alastor sat back, giving her time to gather herself- or just taking in the view, it was difficult to tell. Y/n pulled herself up a bit farther onto the numerous pillows, to recline a bit more comfortably. Feeling his stare, she huffed a laugh.

“Learn anything interesting yet?” She asked.

“I believe I’m starting to,” Alastor responded vaguely. 

Once again his hands were on her, scalding trails where they touched her. Unable to stay still any longer, Starling’s hands twitched up to respond in kind. Before she could brush more than the silken fabric of his jacket her arms were pulled back. The tendrils had returned, pulling her arms down and outwards. 

“If it’s all the same with you doll, I’d prefer to have my explorations uninterrupted.” Starling managed a jerky nod in response, and Alastor nearly purred in his appreciation. 

Seeing her need for more, Alastor bent to wrap his lips around her pink nipple, rolling it with his tongue like a sommelier tasting a wine. Starling arched her spine sharply, unable to stop a breathy moan from escaping from her. The radio demon looked up with greed plain on his face,

“That- that’s exactly what I want to hear.” The sentence had scarcely left his lips before he went back to teasing her nipple, now painfully sensitive. Fascinated at the sounds wrung from her lips at the action, he took her other nipple in his mouth, continuing to tweak the other with his pointed nails. 

Covered in little, blooming bruises and flushed head to toe, Starling was unable to stop herself from squeezing her thighs together, seeking a friction that was being so carefully denied to her. Alastor reached to grip her thigh, but soon pulled the hand away. Intrigued, he felt the stickiness between his fingers and gave it a tentative taste. It was like her skin, a bit salty, but with a hint of bitter as well. 

“For fuck’s sake can we speed this up?!” Starling bit out, glaring at him as her breath stuttered. Alastor held his hands up in a placating gesture, amused more than anything else. Rather than continue teasing, he shuffled back a bit more and dipped his head to get a deeper taste of her. The tip of his tongue dipped shallowly into her, parting the outer folds. The bitterness was stronger there, but well worth the strangled gasp he heard. Starling dropped her head against the pillows, tugging weakly against the restraints as Alastor made it his mission to wring any and all sounds imaginable from her. 

One minute he focused his attention entirely on the sensitive bud at the top of her slit, and the next he was plunging his sinfully long tongue into her, dragging enough to cause achingly pleasurable friction. But each time she felt her thighs tensing and her lower stomach begin to burn delightfully, he would draw back and begin anew. It was maddening, and Starling was certain Alastor knew exactly what it was doing to her.

Regardless, she refused to grovel. Instead she grit her teeth, and stifled any noises which bubbled up from her throat. While it was more difficult to control her breathing, her defiance didn’t go unnoticed. Casting a dark glare her way, Starling vaguely caught a grumble about ‘so petty’, before her ankles were pulled down sharply to spread her wider against the bed. Now significantly more exposed, Alastor wasted no time in using his new angle. He set a faster pace, fucking her with his tongue until she was babbling incoherently. When she felt his mouth move to suck and roll her clit, she knew it was over. Her thighs twitched helplessly, and every muscle in her body tensed as her orgasm rippled over her. Hips bucking, she gave a long groan as her body grew limp, and her head began to clear once again. 

Alastor, the smug bastard, continued to trace a finger along her inner thighs, occasionally trailing higher to the junction of her legs. Starling took a few steadying breaths and regained the strength of her limbs before sitting up to pull an unamused face.

“Having fun down there?” 

The radio demon chuckled, straightening his jacket ever so slightly before responding, “Certainly, little bird. Simply letting you catch your breath.” Before she could ask follow up questions, the restraints tightened once again, but this time she found her knees drawn upward to her chest and out, black rope-like extensions wrapped snugly around her thighs and ankles alike. More of the tendrils emerged from the shadows wrapping around him, a few thicker, more solid-seeming. Seeing where this was going, Starling felt her heartbeat ratchet upwards again. 

“May I?” Alastor asked, the picture of serene politeness. All she could do was nod helplessly, not trusting the steadiness of her voice. 

Eyelids slipping closed, Starling focused on her other senses. The sheets were soft, but made warm from their activities. Despite their strength, her strange bonds remained comfortable against her skin. The fireplace had continued to burn despite its neglect, adding smokiness to the unmistakable scent of sex.

Now calm, the first brush against her folds didn’t cause her to jump. It was much thicker than Alastor’s tongue, but she could feel him sizing her up as it rubbed along her. One hand was rubbing circles into her thigh, and the other continued to drag the track over her torso he had become so enamored with. Finally, the member pushed into her, slowly easing into the tightness. A slow exhale left her lips as it made careful progress, until it was seated deeply enough that it became unyielding. 

Even without movement, Starling was unable to stifle a wholehearted moan. She had never felt so thoroughly filled before, even with how prepared she was from her previous orgasm. 

“I’m going to move now,” The statement was more of a question, but it received no response other than a little nod. 

It began to drag in and out in shallow motions, causing sparks of pleasure that curled her toes. She opened her hips a bit more, trying in her mental haze to gain something more. Alastor gave a tiny groan at the sight, surprisingly Starling as well as himself. Rather than linger on that, he choose to up the tempo his tendril was fucking her at, the thrusts pulling nearly all the way out before plunging back in relentlessly. 

Starling once again found herself a mewling, whimpering mess. She spoke a mix of nonsense and curse words- in what language, neither tried to figure out. And when Alastor lowered his head to once again circle her clitoris in his mouth, her mouth opened in a silent ‘O’. It only took another moment before once again her body was shaking and thrashing, burning in a pleasured haze. 

While he removed his mouth in favor of nipping at her thighs, the member within her didn’t pull out. Its thrusts became shallower, but even so she felt oversensitive against the movements. She was only able to give a questioning look rather than form a question, but Alastor seemed to understand. 

“I think I’d like to see that again. See if it’s the same a second time around- you understand.” He said this with a smile that could only be described as a leer, and Starling was only able to give a vaguely annoyed groan. Not that she was really complaining, however. 

At first she was tense at the too-soon friction, but then his tongue returned to her folds and she was unable to form any coherent thought. It was entirely too much, and the muscles of her legs cramped, but nevertheless she found herself asking for more with every single pant. Her peak eluded her ruthlessly though. Every moment she seemed close she’d spasm and it would recede once again. Alastor wasn’t discouraged in the slightest, however, latching on to this new challenge with great fervor. Her pants were ragged, and knuckles white as she gripped any fabric in reach. His tendril had set a ruthless pace, and it was with a hard suck of her sensitive bud that a spark finally seemed to catch. She keened helplessly as it crashed into her, muscles clenching rhythmically as she came, seeing white as she was overcome with the sensation. It was only then, a panting and wrecked mess, that the shadow tendrils receded- leaving her both empty and unrestrained. 

It took a few minutes of ragged breathing and stretching her aching legs, but eventually she mustered the energy to pull Alastor upwards. Tweaking one of his odd hair peaks (both emboldened, as well as made stupid by the evening’s entertainment), Starling drew him in for a deep kiss. He froze, before softening and allowing her to thoroughly explore his mouth. Eventually she drew away, licking her lips contentedly. 

Alastor, despite all they’d done previously, seemed almost embarrassed after a kiss of all things. He cleared his throat, straightening his already-straight jacket once again before giving her a meaningful look. 

“I guess there’s more for me to learn then.” 

Y/n gave a wry grin before settling more comfortably into the bed, and offering a cheeky reply. 

“Only one way to find out, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's no justification for this, hope y'all enjoyed anyways it you delinquents


End file.
